


Not with a bang

by cielchat



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: 'Murica, M/M, Morals, Some fighting, T.S. Eliot - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cielchat/pseuds/cielchat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the way the world ends; not with a bang but a whimper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not with a bang

This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
Not with a bang but a whimper.  
-T.S. Eliot  
When Batman feels the wall crumble at his back as he passes through it, he thinks, thank god I got insurance on this place, and then, does my insurance cover damage from alien superheroes? And then, my health insurance does, at least.  
He rolls away from the rubble and gets on his feet as fast as he can, because sure enough, Superman is before him again and Batman has always thought that if he’s going to get hit by Superman, he’ll do it standing up, thank you very much. He does, and this time it’s not dust from any building that’s obstructing his vision. He can’t feel the right side of his face very well, but he supposes that’s a good thing considering how much blood is in his mouth right now.  
“Stand down,” Superman orders, sounding like a firecracker and maybe a little like Batman himself.  
“No thanks,” he finds himself replying, and manages to get his arm up this time to block- oh, that’s got to be broken. The second blow catches the side of his head. A crack echoes in his ears- he thinks- from how fast his head turned to the side and he wonders if Superman actually broke his neck. Batman sways, slowly facing forward again, to meet Superman’s eyes.

“I need,” he coughs, spitting out a little bit of blood, “those.”  
Superman narrows his eyes at him, deepening the furrow in his (invulnerable) forehead.  
“My brain cells,” Batman explains. “You wouldn’t understand, but they’re important.”  
A bit rich, coming from him. Bruce Wayne might be a genius billionaire business man, but Batman had decided to go toe to toe with Superman, who has superhuman intelligence, senses, x-ray vision; the works. Hell, he can move faster than light itself; how can Batman hope to defeat him? Superman is toying with him.  
Batman makes one last effort to reach for a grenade, a knife, anything, but before his fingers move three inches Superman slams him against a concrete wall. His skull bounces back, stars bursting behind his eyes at the pain.

“You are done,” the alien growls. “There is nothing you can do to hurt me. There are no ways for you to restrain me. You cannot win this fight.”  
“I’m guessing that’s what Great Britain told America,” snarks Batman. He grabs Superman’s wrists, achieving nothing. The other man’s dark blue eyes burn with rage and thankfully not heat vision. “Personally I’ve always assumed that-“ he breaks off to draw a breath. Perhaps broken ribs do hinder speech after all. He wouldn’t know; he breaks ribs rarely and talks even less.  
“Your crusade is meaningless, futile. Why do you keep trying? What can you possibly hope to achieve?” Superman shakes him as if he were a kitten, rattling his billion dollar armour like pots and pans. “Why does this mean so much to you?”

“You,” coughs Batman, “would need to understand human life, if you want those questions answered. How easily bones are crushed, muscles torn, blood spilt. You would have to understand life lost in the blink of an eye, the inevitability of death, the defiance of humans in the face of it. The sweat and tears that are poured, every day, into maintaining life, and how easily it can be torn away in spite of everything. I came here to teach you that, to teach you fear for your life. I have failed. But someday, I will not.”  
He is dropped; his feet hit the floor and he sways, barely standing in front of his adversary, who stares at him with piercing blue eyes. 

“Come with me,” the alien says. And before he can protest, he is miles high in the sky, above Gotham, above Metropolis, above his entire country and world, held tightly by the arms of the Man of Steel.  
“This planet,” he says, not looking at Bruce but at the land below them. “This is your home planet, all you have ever known, all you have ever lived. I know that you fight to defend it, that you give your breath and blood for it.”  
Bruce retreats back into Batman, silent.  
“It is mine too,” Superman tells him. “I am sure you don’t know this, but we are alike. I have never lived anywhere else. I have never known anywhere else. This is my land, as much as it is yours. You call me alien; they all call me alien. But Earth has been my home for as long as I can remember, and even before that.  
“From here I can see the fields where I played as a child. I can see my elementary school, my church. I can see my ma, and my pa’s grave. Do you understand, Dark Knight? I see my home. I see what I would give my life for as willingly as every soldier in every army.  
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. I was that once, Dark Knight, and this world took me in. I pledged to protect its people in every way I knew how. Even now I hear fires in Los Angeles, bombs going off, a cat stuck in a tree. I want to help them. I want to save them from hurt. Batman. I cannot save everyone. You cannot even save everyone. But together we can save more that if we fought. Please, do not fight me.”

Bruce doesn’t know what to do. Once again, silent, silent as the streets of Gotham never are, as the world never is.  
“We have both started with an act of war,” Superman muses. “Perhaps, then, it is only an act of love that can end this.”  
He presses his lips to Batman’s, and somewhere, deep inside himself, he hears himself whimper.


End file.
